


starlight, star-crossed

by philtatous



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philtatous/pseuds/philtatous
Summary: It's 15 minutes before midnight, and Ringo finally decides: fuck it, he couldn't wait for two months more.Or, the one where Ringo drops the question on New Year's Eve.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	starlight, star-crossed

**Author's Note:**

> here's a modern au which follows a spinoff of prompt #37 from [this](https://writersblockbecomesunblocked.tumblr.com/post/168983729836/new-years-eve-writing-prompts) list. 
> 
> title comes from mitski's cover of "let's get married". 
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

It's 15 minutes before midnight, but Ringo swears he's got it all sorted out at the back of his head, and he was dead keen on making it happen.

The original plan was to ask George the big question on his birthday, which is less than two months away. They were supposed to have a trip to France, coupled with a candlelight dinner by the Seine and slow dancing under the glimmer of Parisian stars. He doesn't care if it's excessively sappy for anyone's – or even George's – liking, but he's not about to break his reputation of being a relentless, diehard romantic for his boyfriend. His sole intention was to make it as perfect and memorable as how George made him feel the moment he fell in love with him, all those years ago. 

(Or, alternatively, in every moment he keeps falling in love with him from that day forward: once, twice, thrice over.)

But here Ringo is, standing in their kitchen, his lower back pressed against the counter, with a half-full Heineken in hand, as George leans in too close to whisper his poetics and anecdotes about the year that's gone by. 

Empty wine bottles and beer cans are littered across the floor, and the bass beats coming from their living room-turned-makeshift-dance floor almost drowns out every other noise in the flat. A bunch of their friends further back are playing some form of beer pong and are taking shots at practically any and all crevice of the body, while some others are having a go at it, or retching their guts in their poor bathroom, or watching everything pass by with stoned gazes.

Despite the mess and the mayhem, he pretends to listen intently on what his boyfriend has been trying to tell him for the past five minutes and encourages him to go on. He ignores with all his might every other sensation – especially those down south – that his body is trying to hint at, even though he believes George has purposefully resorted to muttering gibberish at this point just to tease him, the little bastard.

(But taking in George's breath tickling the shell of his ear, the shadow of his eyelashes adorning his cheekbones, the warmth of his hand on Ringo's waist sending jolts up his spine, and the earnest eyes that exude nothing but genuine happiness and trust, Ringo realizes he couldn't be more in love.)

It's 15 minutes before midnight, and Ringo finally decides: fuck it, he couldn't wait for two months more.

"I'm just gonna get something, Georgie," Ringo says, stopping George mid-sentence, and kisses the tip of his nose as an apology. 

"Okay," George smiles, easy and fond. "I'll get some water. Where ya off to?"

"Gonna go lookin' for something," Ringo replies vaguely. "Wait right there."

He jokingly gestures 'I'm watching you' at George, who only rolls his eyes at him. He then puckers his lips and sends Ringo a flying kiss. In turn, Ringo catches it and pretends to collapse too hard against the wall. George shakes his head in amusement, with his laughter lines and canines in show, before he turns his back on his boyfriend. 

Ringo pushes against the grinding, crashing bodies to make his way toward their bedroom, which he had locked beforehand for 'safety purposes'. As he fishes for his keys, he determinedly ignores the questionable noises coming from the bathroom.

Once he does get in the room, Ringo wastes no time. He hurriedly looks for the box of family photo albums hidden underneath their bed. After a quick dusting off, he opens it and takes out a smaller box filled with mementos he's collected through the years: the raunchy sticky notes George used to leave in his notebooks back in college, the theater tickets they bought together for John's play, the birthday mixtape George made for him in high school. Beneath the clutter lies an even smaller box, lined with velvet, carrying at its heart a silver band with an inscription: _ only love will last _.

A couple of knocks suddenly shake him from his reverie. Ringo freezes. 

"Ritchie? Are you in there?" George calls out from the other side. "Got 10 minutes left, everyone's gone to the living room."

He stays quiet until he feels George has gone off, and he opens the velvet box for one last time before tucking it in his pocket. It's 10 minutes before midnight, and Ringo has never been more certain. 

When he exits, it's Paul who welcomes him back to the fray. With his hair mussed up, his lips swollen, and his eyes hazy, Ringo only assumes of one thing. 

"Hey, Rings," Paul greets, all too giddy. "Alright?"

"Yeah," Ringo replies, trying hard not to laugh. "You seem to enjoy the party too much, son."

Paul grins wildly. "Yeah, 'course, I love me best mates." He pulls Ringo in for a bear hug, and the latter smells the liquor in his breath way too strongly. 

"Love you so much, Ritchie, me lad. Thank you for this year. I love, _ love _ you," Paul drawls on. 

"Ta, we love you too, Macca," Ringo says as he awkwardly pats on Paul's back. 

"Say," Paul starts, abruptly pulling away from the hug. He giggles, much to Ringo's confusion, before he whispers to him. "Can John and I borrow yer room for a mo? Y'know how it is, yeah?"

Ringo cannot help but cackle. "No, Paulie," he chastises. "George will whack you in the 'ead, you want that? You know how he gets with that shite."

Paul pouts like a child. "But Ringo, we've been holding it in all night," he reasons. "We want to end the decade with a _ bang! _" For full effect, he claps his hands at the last word excitedly.

"God, I hate the two of you sometimes," Ringo mutters. "No, Paul. If you guys really want to, you can use the bathroom." He winks at him, who frowns in response.

He evades further conversation with him by walking away laughing. He hears Paul calling out for him until it gets drowned out by the music.

Ringo swims through the crowd again, one palm held against his pocket. The last thing he wants to happen is to lose the box in a sea of a mingling crowd, never to be found again. As he worms his way through the living room, no matter how much he cranes his neck, he can't seem to find his boyfriend – not until someone grabs him by the shoulders.

"There you are." George turns him around and smirks.

"Found me again, have you?" 

"Thought I'd miss another New Year's kiss."

"That was one time, and I was absolutely knackered," Ringo protests. "We were out the whole day." 

George giggles. "I know, love." 

At that moment, the music switches to a more mellow song, which Ringo later on registers as Taylor Swift singing about New Year's parties. The chaos around them slows down as well, transforming into something akin to the push and pull of waves.

George then drapes his arms on Ringo's shoulders, and Ringo settles his own on George's hips. The box seems to burn a hole through his denim jeans by the minute.

"I forgave you right away, too," George continues. "You made it up to me after that, anyway."

"I can do it again, if you like." Ringo waggles his eyebrows.

"No New Year's kiss? I'd rather not." 

"No, you git," Ringo laughs, carefree, in love. "Don't you wanna, y'know, start the year right? Feeling good and sated? Just the two of us?" 

George pretends to mull over it for a moment. "No, I don't think I want that for now." 

He smiles at Ringo, humor slowly ebbing away. "The two of us, right here – this is good enough." He sways them together in circles, neither of them looking away. 

In front of him, Ringo doesn't see a man of hardened lines and a fading, boyish charm, nor an image of a matured, contemplative temperament borne of decades of growing old together. 

Instead, he sees that of a kindling glow, an ever-changing wonder: the young boy who preferred playing the guitar on their backyard than running around the neighbourhood, the cheeky lad who tried (and failed) to be smooth with his flirtatious remarks at him after a gig, the man who braved punches and kicks to defend him in a pub brawl, the one good soul that kept believing in him when he thinks the last person on earth couldn't bear to do so. 

(It's less than five minutes before midnight, and as George leans over and rests his forehead against Ringo's, eyes closed and content, Ringo wants nothing more than to continue loving him in the next year, in the next decade, in the next lifetime.)

"George, love," he starts. 

"Hmm?"

"I gotta tell you something." 

His boyfriend then looks at him intently, with no ounce of judgment. Ringo clears his throat.

"You've been my best mate, my rock, throughout our whole lives of growing together. Hell, if shit about it is true, you've gotta be my soulmate, because I've already fallen for you so hard before I realized I was madly in love with you." 

George laughs softly. He urges Ringo to go on.

"So, er, this sounded more romantic in me head," he chuckles apologetically. "But, basically, I just want you to know that I'm very thankful that you chose to tolerate my stubborn arse time and again. Thank you for getting me through the lowest points in me life, and for teaching me how to love more bravely." 

"God, you're such a fuckin' sap, you are," George remarks wetly. Ringo doesn't point out the welling tears in his eyes, simply because he feels he's got some in his own. 

"The end of the year's got me all sentimental, Geo. Now hush, I'm not done yet," Ringo replies, to which his boyfriend complies. 

Ringo inhales sharply, the lump in his throat quivering. He takes both of George's hands in his own. "I simply couldn't imagine a life without you, so before this year ends, I want to ask you–"

Someone at the other side of the room shouts that there's 20 seconds left until it's 2020, so everyone joins along and starts counting down. Another one also sets the music's volume to the max, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. George looks around in excitement and counts down under his breath. 

Meanwhile, Ringo adamantly doesn't let up. 

He holds George's face, turns it to him, and shouts: _ "Will you marry me?" _

_ "What?" _George shouts back.

Ringo makes his voice louder. "I said, _ will you marry me?" _

_ "I can't understand a thing!" _ More air horns blare around them, as everyone in the party shouts out the seconds remaining. _ 10, 9, 8… _

Ringo may be decent at lip reading, but George can't read shit when he can't hear what's being said. So, Ringo, out of exasperation with himself and the situation, decides to help out his boyfriend.

In one fluid motion, Ringo goes down in one knee, grasps for the box in his trousers, and opens it. The ring glints colourfully under the strobe lights.

_ "Will you marry me?" _

_ 5, 4… _

George gasps, his eyes wide. He stills. He says nothing.

It's Ringo that cannot read him now.

_ 3, 2, 1… _

Ringo almost moves to stand up, with a profuse, embarrassed apology on the ready, when he's suddenly grabbed by the collar, forcing him to stand.

"You're a bloody idiot, Richard Starkey." 

Before he knows it, warm lips crash against his. He had little chance to gasp for air, but he couldn't give less of a fuck when George is kissing him with his entire being.

Ringo buries his hands in George's hair, pulling him in as close as he can, as George tilts his head, deepening the kiss. The world around them blurs into sounds and sensations, as the crowd simultaneously erupts into raucous cheer, elation thick in the air. In the midst of celebration, Ringo could only focus on George's mouth, his hands, his hair, his heartbeat. Fireworks explode and crackle at the back of his eyelids. (They've done this a million times before, especially in verges of passion and heat, but Ringo believes it's a christening of a love found anew. It speaks a new language, brings on a new taste, and it begins a whole new story.)

It eventually shifts into chaste kisses and chasing each other's lips. They break away in surprise when someone opens a party popper, and confetti rains down on their heads, with bits of glitter landing on George's eyelids. He giggles, and kisses Ringo some more. Ringo could only drown in the sickly sweetness of it.

George then pecks at Ringo's forehead, his cheeks, his nose. Ringo speaks first. 

"So, was that a yes?" 

George throws his head back and cackles. "You fuckin' idiot – yes, a million times yes," he answers. His eyes shine against the dark of the room.

"Jus' makin' sure, 's all," Ringo mutters, before George shakes his head and closes their gap once more.

After he slips the ring on George's finger as the rest of the world pays them no mind, Ringo whispers to George that he doesn't want to break the news to their friends just yet. George grins and hums in agreement.

It's the first midnight of the new year. As the loud electronic music thumps in his skin, and people start to pass out around the place, it crosses Ringo's mind that he has tons of cleaning to do in the morning. The mere thought of disinfecting every nook and cranny of their flat already exhausts him to the bone. 

But, he admits, he's willing to wake up at an ungodly hour to start everything. After all, throughout the ordeal, he'll have his fiancé by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> as per usual, constructive criticism is very much welcome in the comments. thank you for reading, and i wish you all the love and happiness for the new year!


End file.
